


Welcome to the Machine

by daftalchemist



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Anal Play, Cock Rings, Dildos, Eldritch Abomination Cecil, Light BDSM, M/M, Science Kink, Sex Machine, Sex Toys, bulging, lots of ink, so much damn ink, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-18
Updated: 2014-02-19
Packaged: 2018-01-12 21:41:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1201654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daftalchemist/pseuds/daftalchemist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carlos has some extra special science in mind for Cecil</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> beta thanks to Mabs (tacotits on tumblr)

“Would you like to help me with some science?”

Cecil didn’t even know why Carlos felt he needed to ask when the answer was already so obvious. He might not understand anything about science, but he loved that Carlos did, and loved helping him with it even more. But despite Cecil enthusiastically agreeing, Carlos didn’t actually seem to _need_ any help. He had been doing science, that much was certain, but Cecil had no idea what kind. Every night after dinner, he’d run off to the basement, locking himself in there and tinkering loudly with something, never asking Cecil to join him and never talking about his work. This wasn’t a problem, of course. Cecil knew privacy was important, or rather was _learning_ that privacy was important, and reminded himself of that fact constantly. It just seemed strange that Carlos would specifically ask for his help, and then not actually use it.

That was until about two weeks later, when Carlos didn’t sneak off to the basement. They’d just finished eating, and Cecil was rinsing the dishes in the sink when Carlos came up from behind and wrapped his arms around him, pressed soft kisses to the back of his neck. Cecil jumped, just a little. He’d expected the scrape of Carlos’ chair against the floor would be followed shortly by the sound of the basement door closing, but he settled down quickly enough, humming appreciatively at the affection. Carlos’ hands dipped lower, his fingers slipping under the waistband of Cecil’s jeans, splaying out over his thighs, and pressing him back against Carlos’ groin. Cecil let out a shuddering breath and grinned as he put down the plate in his hand and turned off the faucet. He leaned back against Carlos, reaching behind him to run his fingers through his dark hair, and nuzzled at his jaw.

“No science tonight?” he asked, but Carlos chuckled at the question.

“Extra special science tonight, actually,” he said, his voice thick with desire, before kissing at Cecil’s jaw, sucking marks into his skin. “Did you still want to help me?”

Cecil bit his lip and nodded, heat rising in his cheeks. “I always want to help.”

“I’m glad,” Carlos replied before nipping at his earlobe, “but you can change your mind at anytime, and I’ll stop, okay?”

Cecil gasped as Carlos threaded his fingers through the loosening whorl of his tendrils, separating the mass into five individually twitching appendages as easily as he would unzip a jacket. Cecil whined high-pitched and needy and braced himself against the edge of the kitchen counter, suddenly feeling not quite capable enough to hold himself upright. “Wh-why would I want you to stop?”

Carlos smiled against his skin as he gently squeezed a tendril between his fingers, his own dick twitching against Cecil’s ass as he moaned breathily and ground back against him. “Because I’m doing science on _you_ tonight.”

Cecil stiffened. “O-on _me_?”

Carlos shushed him softly and ran his free hand under Cecil’s shirt and over his stomach, feeling the way his muscles twitched and rippled under his gentle touch.

“I’m not going to cut you open or anything like that, cariño,” he purred before sucking a soft purple mark into his neck. Cecil shuddered, whining softly as he struggled to keep himself upright.

“So it’s s-science I’ll e-enjoy then?”

Carlos rolled his hips against him with a soft groan. “That’s the plan. Are you ready?”

Cecil’s mind was barely coherent with so much attention being paid to his body. His tendrils were winding themselves around Carlos’ fingers, and he could feel them dripping slick rivulets down his thighs. _Science_. On _him_? He briefly wondered if it had to do with Carlos’ work in the basement, but found himself unable to concentrate on any one thought for too long as each touch pulled more needy whines from his throat, his legs growing increasingly shakier with each passing minute, and he nodded his head.

“I th-think--” He moaned as Carlos tightened his grip on his tendrils, already beginning to swell with ink. “I… y-yeah. I-I’m ready.”

“Perfect,” Carlos said as he slipped his hand out of Cecil’s pants and backed away. Cecil whimpered at the loss of contact, his legs shaking with the effort to keep him upright, and he turned to see Carlos smiling brightly at him and holding out his hand. “Let me show you what I’ve been working on.”

Cecil wasn’t exactly sure how he managed to make it down the basement stairs without toppling both of them while he was dealing with winged creatures fluttering violently around in his stomach, and the fact that his blood had found something more interesting to do than supply oxygen to his head. But there he was, and there Carlos was, and they hadn’t tripped once, which was fortunate because the contraption at the bottom of the stairs seemed like it would have been severely damaged if they’d crashed into it.

Cecil didn’t know what it was, couldn’t even begin to imagine. He was certain Carlos did though, because he had already moved over to it and begun fussing with it, leaving Cecil to awkwardly stand there, swollen tendrils making a rather active tent in his pants, and wait to find out what kind of science was going to be performed on him. He was surprised to find that Carlos had managed to clean up the basement so quickly since they’d moved in. It looked really scientific, if he had to pick a word to describe it; all stainless steel and bright lights, although those lights were currently off in favor of something a little more mood-setting. The only lights still on were the ones directly above the device, which was… interesting.

It mostly seemed to be a well-padded bench, but much longer than a bench normally was, and much higher off the ground too. More like a table, really, but a padded one? It wasn’t just a bench either. There was a… _thing_ pushed up against the end of it. Some sort of box that also had padding against the side facing the bench, but with a hole cut out near the bottom, and something purple and rounded protruding slightly from it. There were meters and dials on the side with numbers and settings he didn’t understand, wires connecting it to unseen power sources. The last thing he noticed were the restraints.

“Cecil.”

He snapped back to attention, and his breath hitched in his throat as he realized Carlos had put on his lab coat. Carlos grinned devilishly as Cecil’s eyes darkened, making a show of adjusting the lapels and brushing nonexistent dirt from the sleeves before standing tall, hands clasped behind his back, and setting his jaw, looking every bit like the dedicated scientist Cecil knew and loved.

“Are you ready?” he asked, and Cecil somehow managed to not drool on himself as he nodded slowly. He moaned breathily as Carlos palmed the slick bulge his tendrils were forming in his jeans, eyes fluttering open on his forehead in response. Carlos immediately pulled his hand away, and Cecil whined and the loss of contact.

“For the purpose of this experiment, there will be no manifesting,” Carlos instructed, and Cecil’s jaw dropped.

“B-but… _Carlos_ ,” he pleaded, grasping Carlos’ hand tightly. “You _know_ it’s hard for me to hold back.”

“I’m sorry, Cecil,” Carlos said, but he certainly didn’t _sound_ sorry as he stroked Cecil’s cheek and smiled, “but part of the experiment is seeing how long you can go without manifesting. I promise this won’t take too long, so just try to make it work for as long as you can, okay?”

Cecil gnawed anxiously at his lower lip, that feeling of angry winged things in his gut increasing, but he sighed and nodded regardless, letting go of Carlos’ hand. “What _is_ the experiment?”

Carlos eyes lit up. “I’m so glad you asked. You may not be aware of this, but it takes a human male an average of five to ten minutes to achieve orgasm.”

“ _Okay_ …,” said Cecil, furrowing his brow in confusion.

“However, through use of accessories, or sometimes just sheer force of will, they can delay it for much longer than that.”

“Oh,” said Cecil. “That’s, uh… interesting? I guess?”

“It is,” Carlos grinned. “But, of course, you aren’t human.”

Cecil nodded. “That’s definitely what I’ve been told.”

“So I got to wondering,” Carlos continued and picked up a handful of what appeared to be rubber rings, thicker in diameter than his thumb, but not by much, “how long _you_ could last through the use of accessories.”

Cecil’s tendrils thrashed eagerly against his fly, but he managed to keep the searing heat his nerves were firing off from causing him to manifest.

“Th-that… I’ve never….” He swallowed thickly, giving himself a moment to collect his thoughts. “I don’t really know. It’s not something I’ve thought about before.”

“That’s fine. No problem at all,” Carlos replied, picking up a clipboard with some rather official looking notes on them. “From the evidence I’ve, uh, _gathered_ , you could say, over the past few months, I’ve estimated that forty-five minutes is a good place to start.” He glanced at Cecil over the rims of his glasses. “Do you think you can handle that?”

“Wh-uh… I guess so?”

“Great! You need to get undressed,” Carlos instructed, gentle but still commanding, as he put down the clipboard and rings, and Cecil couldn’t hide the shiver that shot through his spine at the authoritative tone.

“Y-yes, of course,” he replied, and pulled off his t-shirt, putting it in Carlos’ outstretched hand, who immediately folded it and placed it on a nearby shelf in a very official manner. He crossed his arms, rubbing at them nervously. There was a slight chill in the air, being in an underground room and all. Carlos grinned and hooked his fingers under the waistband of Cecil’s jeans, pulling him close enough to press kisses to his chest.

“Don’t worry,” he murmured against his skin, skillfully undoing Cecil’s jeans with one hand as he slid the other over his stomach to thumb at a nipple. “You’ll warm up soon enough.”

Cecil gasped and nodded, attempting to roll his hips into Carlos’ touch, but the scientist had already moved away, fiddling with the contraption again. Cecil huffed in disappointment and shucked off his pants, kicking them to the side rather than neatly placing them with his shirt. He anxiously palmed at his tendrils, which were quickly becoming much less active despite the rivulets of ink dripping down his legs. This was just… weird, even for him. Carlos turned back around, beaming with scientific brilliance, but his expression immediately dropped when he saw Cecil withdrawn and fidgety.

“Cecil, cariño,” he said, his voice as soft and gentle as a spring breeze, and took Cecil in his arms. “Are you okay? Do you want to stop?”

Cecil shrugged. “I don’t think so, but… I don’t even know what we’re doing exactly. I’m just… nervous, I guess.”

Carlos stroked his cheek as he kissed him, soft and slow, before pulling away with a smile. “You’re right, I should explain everything first.”

He took Cecil by the hand and led him over to the machine.

“This is where you lay down,” he explained, pointing to the padded bench-possibly-table. “On your back, of course. Can’t give your tentacles room to sprout. The restraints are as thickly reinforced as they are padded, so there’s no chance of you breaking free and ending the experiment early.”

“But what if I need it to end early?” Cecil asked, chewing on his lip. Carlos placed a finger against it, stilling his nervous habit.

“You _tell me_ and I end it safely,” he stated firmly, and Cecil nodded, fully understanding the importance of the command. “If you want it to end, say… ‘void’. I doubt it’s something you’ll accidentally say during the experiment when things start ramping up.”

“Void,” Cecil repeated, his tendrils wriggling back to life as he already began to feel at ease, and Carlos smiled.

“Exactly.” He turned the box with the dials and meters slightly towards them and pushed a button. The purple rounded thing slowly extended from the hole, and it became immediately obvious what its purpose was. It was long and thick, curved slightly, and ridged with bumps of varying sizes and heights. Cecil palmed his tendrils absentmindedly at the sight of it, and Carlos grinned. “This is what I’ll be penetrating you with. You like it?”

“That’s… really good, yeah,” said Cecil, his blood suddenly and mysteriously absent from his brain again.

“It has varying speeds and vibration intensities,” Carlos continued, as he pointed to various knobs on the side of the box. “I’ve even made it possible to input programs to increase or decrease the intensity over time, similar to an exercise machine, actually, only sexier, I guess.”

“It’s _very_ impressive,” Cecil purred as he wrapped his arms around Carlos, rolled his hips against him, and Carlos hummed in agreement, tilting his head back to kiss him.

“I wanted to be thorough,” he grinned. “Can’t let the experiment get ruined by confounding variables or anything. It’s all _very_ scientific.” He coiled Cecil’s tendrils around his fingers and gave them a slow tug, feeling them gently swell under his fingertips. “Shall I get you strapped in?”

Cecil nuzzled his neck. “I’d like that.”

“Then hop onto the table, and we’ll get started.”

Cecil did as instructed, bouncing slightly on the padding beneath him, the nervousness returning again. “It’s very soft.”

“I know,” Carlos responded as he gently pushed Cecil onto his back, letting his fingertips linger on his chest. “I don’t expect you to be doing _too_ much thrashing about, but thought I should be prepared for that eventuality anyway.”

He stared adoringly at the scientist. “You’re so smart.”

“Yes, well….” Carlos cleared his throat and looked away in an attempt to hide the soft pink flush in his cheeks. “Slide closer to the end of the table and I’ll get you set up.”

Cecil scooted himself towards the end where two leather cuffs were jutting up from the sides of the table, though facing the wrong direction to be used on his ankles. Carlos reached under the table to some sort of storage shelf Cecil hadn’t noticed earlier, pulled out a thick metal bar with similar leather cuffs on each end, and passed it through the ones on the table.

“This is to keep your legs apart,” he explained as he carefully fastened them to Cecil, pulling the straps snugly, but not too tight. He stepped back and looked the bonds over, humming with displeasure. He reached beneath the table again, and Cecil heard something clank rather loudly, followed by a grinding sound, and the table began to tilt forward, bringing him into somewhat more of a sitting position as he slid even closer to the end.

“Just a moment,” Carlos said as he continued the adjustments. The area of the table immediately beneath Cecil’s feet tilted upwards, separating from the rest of it and forming a sort of resting place for him, uncomfortable though it was, but it was certainly better than sliding off entirely, and the bar wouldn’t be in the way of penetrating him anymore. Carlos lowered the legs on the machine itself next, though he didn’t seem to be able to tilt it in exactly the same angle as Cecil. “I can tilt the arm the toy is on to penetrate you from any angle, really, but it just might not work quite as well this way.” He looked up at Cecil and shrugged. “It’s the best I can do. I didn’t get to test it before now, obviously.”

Cecil grinned and stroked languidly at his tendrils, coating his fingers in slick fluid. “I’m sure I’ll like it just fine.”

Carlos grabbed Cecil’s wrist and pulled his hand away from his groin, ignoring Cecil’s whined protest and slight pout.

“Arms above your head,” Carlos instructed, letting go of him and reaching up to unbuckle the restraints at the top of the table. Cecil did as told and was secured to the table in no time, soft padding hugging his wrists close. He tugged against them experimentally, but wasn’t able to make them budge an inch.

“Strong,” he commented, impressed by how the cuffs didn’t even cut into his skin no matter how hard he tried to pull out of them. Carlos put a hand over his arms to still him and leaned in for a kiss.

“I _did_ design them to withstand the strength of a monster,” he purred, slipping his other hand into Cecil’s writhing tendrils, and grinned as Cecil moaned against his lips. “Are you ready?”

Cecil bit his lip and nodded, squeezing his eyes shut as he did his best to relax back against the table and steel himself to receive the rather large dildo, those creatures in his stomach fluttering around again. It wasn’t something thick and plastic that penetrated him though, but rather something slender and warm. His eyes darkened and he gasped, managing to school the transformation back under control just in time before Carlos gazed longingly up at him, his eyelids heavy and his smile wide as he pressed another ink-slicked finger into Cecil and scissored them roughly. Cecil arched off the table, his arms straining against his bonds.

“F-for the… e-experiment?” he stammered, and Carlos chuckled.

“No, this one’s just for me,” he said before sliding his fingers free, caressing Cecil’s thigh as he whined in disappointment. “Just one moment, cariño. You’ll be full again soon.”

Carlos turned a dial and the machine whirred to life, and soon enough Cecil felt the rounded tip of the toy nudging against his hole. He hissed in surprise, but Carlos was right there, gently stroking his leg with one hand as he kept his attentions focused on the machine.

“I’m going slow, Cecil,” he said, looking up just for a second to smile reassuringly at him. “Don’t worry.”

Cecil nodded and moaned breathily, curling his toes over the sides of his footholds as the rounded tip began to open him wide, each bump and ridge that passed through his entrance eliciting a violent twitch from his dripping tendrils. He strained against his bonds, wanting nothing more than to grind downwards and stuff himself on the thick plastic arm filling him, but all he could do was shudder and whine, high-pitched and needy, as Carlos slowly, _agonizingly_ filled him. His body _burned_ from the effort of staying in his human form, every inch of him wanting to change, to lose control and burst free. A firm squeeze on his thigh brought him back to attention.

“Cecil,” Carlos said in a warning tone, “your teeth.”

Cecil ran his tongue over his them, feeling sharp points digging into soft flesh, and he whined pitifully. “I c-can’t, Carlos… _please_. Just this one thing.”

Carlos sighed disapprovingly but returned to his work without pressing the point. The arm was almost fully extended from the machine, but not quite. “Can you take more?”

“ _Yes_!” Cecil cried, digging his fingers into the padding of the table as he struggled to ignore the pulsing heat in his groin, his tendrils growing thick and sluggish as they became more and more swollen with ink. “ _So_ much more.”

“Hmm, not just yet,” said Carlos, and stopped turning the dials on the machine. The arm stopped pushing the toy inwards, and Cecil groaned in frustration.

“Why are you stopping? I didn’t say the word to stop!”

Carlos rolled his eyes as he picked up the five rings he had shown Cecil earlier.

“My lab coat, my lab, my experiment,” he explained, grasping one of Cecil’s tendrils firmly enough to hold it still, but not quite as firmly as Cecil would have liked him to, though he moaned appreciatively regardless. “I have to get the rings on you before these thicken too much.”

Cecil bit his lip and nodded, trying not to writhe and arch as the pliable rings stretched over each tendril, but it was _agony_ , so close to being what he needed for release, and still so maddeningly far from it. It felt like an eternity before he couldn’t feel Carlos’ hands on his tendrils anymore, and felt the machine pressing into him again. He shuddered and cried, pressure building in his groin, but having nowhere to go, no way to be released.

“C-Carlos,” he whined, rolling his hips weakly. “It’s s-so much to take.”

Carlos visibly steadied himself before turning to address him, but Cecil could see that his pupils blown wide and his breath was shallow. “Do you want to stop?”

Cecil bit his lip and shook his head.

“Okay, because I’m starting the next step now.”

“Th-the next--”

Cecil’s words were cut short as Carlos touched a different dial, and the toy began to pulse and vibrate and thrust deep within him. Cecil _wailed_ , back arching painfully off the table as it buzzed away inside him, his skin _burning_ from the effort to keep himself in human form. Carlos was beside him in an instant, clamping a hand over Cecil’s mouth and forcing him to look at him.

“Cecil, you need to _stop screaming_ ,” he instructed. “I haven’t soundproofed the room yet.”

It was no use. Cecil couldn’t stop screaming, not while he was being massaged so deliciously by dozens of bumps and ridges, or while the thrumming of the machine was so deep inside him that he could feel the vibrations through to his chest. His head swam in a thick haze of pleasure as what had just been pressure in his groin became a searing heat that grew stronger and stronger, but had no way to escape. His tendrils thickened as much as they could, constricted as they were by the rings, and thrashed as violently as their ink-swollen forms allowed, but it wasn’t enough. There was too much, _far_ too much being held back. He couldn’t add his voice to that list.

“Shit!” Carlos spat, rushing for the stairs. “I’ll be _right back_ , Cecil. I need to get you a gag.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

Carlos had _hoped_ that he’d reach the top of the basement stairs, close the door, and be pleasantly surprised to find that he couldn’t hear Cecil screaming with pleasure in the basement. Of course, that wasn’t the case. That man had some _lungs_ on him, or what he assumed were lungs anyway. He wouldn’t know without cutting him open, and he wouldn’t cut him open, so that was just yet another Night Vale mystery to never be solved.

Another mystery that would never be solved was why he hadn’t thought to gag him in the first place, knowing his penchant for getting a little loud in bed. He supposed he just hadn’t expected him to get _quite_ so loud, but the reality was probably that he’d forgotten all about that one little detail while he had been spending so many hours eagerly building the machine.

The final mystery was why the _hell_ he couldn’t find any of their fucking dish towels or ties or _anything_ he could stuff in Cecil’s mouth!

The wailing increased, taking on a harsh edge, like Cecil’s pleasured cries were being dragged over coarse gravel. The program he’d input to slowly increase the speed and vibration intensity had begun. Cecil was straining against himself to not manifest, Carlos knew, and couldn’t help but grin as he frantically searched for something clean and thick to use for a gag, a task made all the more difficult by the heady cries diverting his attention to his own aching groin. He had initially thought it prudent to take care of his own needs before starting the experiment, specifically to avoid something like this happening, but the thought of Cecil begging to be taken off the machine and fucking him to release himself had been a little too desirable to pass up. Now he was scrambling to the linen closet to grab a washcloth to shove in his boyfriend’s mouth--an idea that really should have occurred to him sooner, being an intelligent scientist and all--and all the while feeling his half-hard dick swaying awkwardly in his slacks. He would have considered the situation a disaster if it wasn’t still so _loudly_ obvious that the man in the basement was greatly enjoying being in his care, despite how much of a bumbling mess Carlos felt like.

A tender warmth blossomed in Carlos’ chest, and he grabbed a washcloth with a smile. Despite things not working _quite_ as smoothly as he would have liked, Cecil still loved and trusted him enough to allow Carlos to perform this kind of thing on him, and no amount of loving words said on the radio could compare with the kind of devotion that showed. He made his way back to the basement, eager to repay that devotion with the best night of pleasure Cecil had ever--

There was a knock at the door.

Carlos stopped dead in his tracks, hoping against hope his ears had just been playing tricks on him. That the banging sound was somehow coming from the basement and not his living room.

There was another knock--harder, more insistent--followed by the worst combination of words he could have imagined hearing strung together.

“Hey, uh, Secret Police?” The officer knocked again, then groaned. “C’mon, man, answer the door.”

Carlos briefly considered ignoring the man at the door, sneaking back down into the basement as though no one was even home, but another particularly loud wail tore through the foundations of the house, and Carlos trudged off to the door with a sigh. He stuffed the washcloth in the pocket of lab coat and grasped the doorknob before catching a glimpse of his erection straining rather noticeably against his slacks.

“Shit!” he cursed, making a futile attempt at forcing it to lay flat before momentarily panicking and deciding to just button up the lab coat instead. It worked well enough, he supposed.

“Dude, come _on_ , I know you’re in there!” the officer shouted, pounding on the door again.

“Right, okay, yes,” Carlos muttered as he unlocked and opened the door, just in time for Cecil to squeal in pleasure. Carlos hoped he hadn’t cringed too badly. “Uh, hi.”

The officer, clad in the usual unnecessarily militaristic looking tactical gear they all wore, nodded and tapped at a notepad in his hand. “I got a noise complaint.”

Carlos groaned and began to shut the door. “Yeah, okay, I’ll keep the noise down.”

The officer held the door open with one gloved hand, shaking his head disapprovingly.

“It’s not the volume; that’s well within acceptable limits,” he continued. “It’s an _unidentified_ noise complaint. Just want to know what it is, that’s all.”

“ _Oh_ , that’s… okay then, I guess,” Carlos stammered. “It’s just an experiment I’m working on. For science.”

The officer nodded, stroking his chin and humming thoughtfully for an unusually long moment before exclaiming, “Oh! You know what? I should write this down.”

He hastily pulled out what looked like a tablet computer, but much older, and cruder, and, oddly enough, bloodier. It was clear he hadn’t yet fully grasped whatever odd runed keyboard the touchscreen held as he began slowly typing something Carlos couldn’t decipher, not even looking up for a second as another scream burst from the house.

“They have me doing reports now,” he said with a shrug. “I dunno. I _guess_ it’s better for keeping track of you guys, but it’s also like they want me to do work now, so…”

He trailed off with a sigh and a shake of his head, still typing agonizingly slowly on whatever arcane device had been given him for this purpose, but Carlos was hardly paying attention. He was too busy calculating how much time he’d already spent waiting for this incompetent asshole to write down that he was doing science, and how much longer he’d need to stand here and not next to the boyfriend he should be monitoring. He hadn’t anticipated needing to step away, so he hadn’t put in an end point for the program, figuring he’d just let it go longer than his original estimate if it appeared Cecil could handle it. The officer was still typing--just _one sentence_!--and Carlos realized he couldn’t hear Cecil anymore. He’d reached a lull in the program, which meant--

An inhuman screech pierced through the house, rattling the windows, and sending a thrill along Carlos’ rock hard dick as the intensity on the machine increased, as Carlos knew it would. The officer finally looked up from his tablet, crossing his arms menacingly.

“ _Science_ , huh?” he said, he voice dripping with condescension and disbelief. “What _kind_ of science?”

“Bizarre?” Carlos said questioningly, wanting nothing more than for this sham of an interrogation to be over so he could go relieve Cecil and himself of the agony they were both feeling.

“You got a permit for that?”

Carlos did, in fact. He’d picked it up months ago, just for this purpose, but had never found the courage to actually practice his bizarre science. With the expiration date quickly looming on the horizon, he’d decided the time was right to put it to good use. He just wished he hadn’t left it as such a rush job as he groaned impatiently and reached into the lab coat hanging by the door, pulling the bizarre science permit out of the pocket, and handed it to the officer. He looked it over, nodding thoughtfully but obviously not knowing what the hell he was looking at, or what he was looking _for_ , before handing it back to Carlos.

“So, _Mr. Scientist_ ,” he sneered. “You got a name?”

Carlos sighed, completely exasperated. “Carlos? Like on the permit you just looked at?”

“Carlos… Carlos…” the officer muttered to himself, tapping his finger against his lips. “Oh, hey! I hear about you on the radio sometimes!”

It took every ounce of self-control Carlos still had not to laugh from the absurdity of his life at that very moment.

“Yep, same guy!” he said, grinning so wide that he practically felt manic, a grin that immediately died on his lips the moment the officer’s demeanor became very serious.

“Hey, you’re not like… doing the science on that radio guy, are you?” he asked. “My records say he lives here too.”

“Wh- _what_? O-on _Cecil_?” Carlos sputtered, waving his hands perhaps a bit too frantically. He had never been the type to share intimate details about his sex life, and he wasn’t about to start with a random member of the Sheriff’s secret police force. “Of course not! Never! Does that sound like _Cecil_ down there?”

A fortuitously timed roar shook the whole house, meaning Cecil had lost control of his human form, and would be fully manifested by now. The crushing guilt tightly knotting Carlos’ gut was immediately soothed away by the officer humming thoughtfully and nodding.

“Doesn’t even sound _human_ ,” he said, prodding slowly at his tablet, and Carlos eagerly agreed, just needing this to be over so he could return to the basement. “Got a permit for _that_?”

“For…?”

The officer sighed and shook his head. “For the non-human studies, smart guy.”

Carlos gaped at him for a moment, the sounds of Cecil struggling against his monstrous nature ringing in his ears as a piercing dread filled his chest, leaving him cold.

“I… I do,” he said, his mind almost blank from fear. “It’s just… it’s at the lab. The _real_ lab. With my colleagues.”

The officer shook his head and sucked his teeth disapprovingly. “You know you need it on premises, right?”

Carlos leaned heavily against the doorframe and nodded his head.

“And that I’m supposed to take you to go get it so you don’t get hauled off, right?”

He was going to get dragged away, and Cecil was still strapped into a machine that was fucking every last scrap of his self-control away, and Carlos wasn’t going to be there to give him his release. Or worse, a secret police officer would investigate and find him instead, and the whole town would know he was a monster, and it would be Carlos’ fault!

“But that radio guy says you’re really dependable and all, so I’ll let it slide. _Just this once_.”

Carlos immediately snapped back to attention. “Y-you will?”

“Yeah, man. I mean, the guy’s kind of like a town hero or whatever, so-”

The air was suddenly crushed out of the officer’s lungs as he was hugged by a surprisingly strong, half-hard scientist. Fortunately for Carlos, the shock of being squeezed so tightly was enough to keep the officer from remembering his training to immediately tase anyone who tried to touch him, and he had already released the officer before his mind had cleared enough to attempt to remember it.

“S-sorry,” Carlos stammered, his cheeks flushed bright red. “It’s just… a time-sensitive experiment, and I didn’t want to have to leave it.”

“Y-yeah,” the officer said, his voice noticeably shaken. “That’s… it’s no problem, r-really. I’m happy to help, actually. You, you’re… I mean, the radio says you’re a good guy and all, so it’s no problem.”

“Was there anything else you needed?” Carlos asked, grinning ear to ear, but the officer shook his head.

“Just that you should have a good night, is all,” he said, chuckling awkwardly. “And that’s everything.”

“Great! You too!” exclaimed Carlos, and he had slammed the door and was halfway down the basement stairs before the officer even had a chance to say good-bye.

The incoherent wailing Cecil was doing quickly turned to slurred approximations of Carlos’ name the moment he reached the bottom of the stairs, and Carlos groaned from the sight he was greeted with.

“ _Cecil_ , oh god,” he sobbed, rushing to his side in an instant, nearly slipping and breaking his head open as he did.

The floor beneath Cecil was _coated_ in the slick ink that was leaking steadily from his engorged tendrils, so thick with the stuff that they were each as rigid as a fully erect dick, and Cecil thrashed against his bonds when Carlos so much as ghosted his fingers over them. He was fully manifested, though that wasn’t a surprise: dark grey skin covered in a sheen of sweat, clawed hands and feet digging deep gouges into the ends of the table, his digigrade legs bent in an uncomfortable looking crouched position on the footrests, and the tentacles attempting to sprout from his back had arched him quite a ways off the table. But there was something new this time, something Carlos had never seen during a manifestation before. A bulge, quite prominent in fact, distending Cecil’s lower stomach. Carlos placed his hand on it and pressed, just a little, but Cecil _thrashed_ against the table, squealing Carlos’ name as the ink dripping in thick rivulets over his legs and ass leaked out more forcefully.

“Th-that’s… _ink_?” Carlos gasped, hardly able to believe it, but Cecil whimpered pitifully as he nodded his head, rolling his hips weakly with the toy still buried deep with in him, still tormenting him with untold pleasure. Carlos pressed on the bulge again, just to be sure, and achieved the same effect. The added pressure on his bound tendrils caused Cecil to screech in agony, too far gone to be able to ask Carlos to stop, to ask for _more_ , and it frightened Carlos. It frightened him the way his cock throbbed in agony at the sight of Cecil so full of his own fluids, the way he writhed and cried at his inability to come, the way he struggled against the desire to escape the thrumming toy stretching him wide open and the need to fuck himself deeper with it, the way he’d lost every hold he’d ever had on being human and became the monster he’d always been.

“Hold on, Cecil,” Carlos insisted as he cautiously stepped over to the machine, suddenly wishing he’d thought to place a bucket, or perhaps a _tub_ , beneath the table. He turned down the intensity and snatched up a pair of scissors he’d left out as a precaution. He wouldn’t be able to roll the rings back off of Cecil’s tendrils, after all. They were stretched so taught against the skin beneath them, but if Carlos managed to nick Cecil with the scissors as he cut the first one off, Cecil certainly didn’t notice as he shuddered and wailed, ink _pouring_ from the tendril in violent surges.

The second ring came off in much the same way--more screaming, more moaning, more trembling--and each subsequent ring, until all five tendrils were spurting thick, black ink across the floor, the bulge in Cecil’s stomach slowly receding as the mess in the basement grew. Carlos cautiously made his way back to the table and undid Cecil’s wrist cuffs, holding his boyfriend close as he mewled and shook weakly, each burst of ink renewing the tremors wracking his body until his tendrils had returned to their original size, steadily dripping the last of their ink as they hung limply from Cecil’s body, too sensitive to touch even each other without causing him to cry out.

Carlos smoothed his hand over the curved tentacles that made up his hair and stroked a hand against his cheek, coaxing Cecil to open any of his dozen eyes. The blinked open slowly, fixing Carlos with heavy-lidded stares, violet pupils blown so wide that his eyes were almost entirely purple instead of their usual black. He smiled sleepily for a moment before his expression fell, and he hung his head with a sigh.

“Cecil? What is it?” Carlos asked, grasping his face gently in his hands and tilting his chin upwards.

“I manifested…,” he whined, clearly disappointed in himself.

Carlos couldn’t help but smile.

“Shhh, cariño,” he cooed, kissing around the eyes on his forehead. “It’s ok. Don’t worry about that.”

Cecil leaned in, nuzzling his head against Carlos’ chest. “I didn’t ruin the experiment?”

Carlos wrapped his arms around him. “Of course not. The experiment was fine. You did perfectly.”

Cecil grinned and stared up at him, his monstrous features still firmly in place. “I proved your theory?”

In reality it was a hypothesis and not a theory, but Carlos wasn’t about to explain that to a blissed out monster who had practically just been fucked within an inch of his life, especially since he hadn’t actually remember to keep track of how long Cecil had been hooked up to the machine, just that it had been more than long enough. He nodded anyway, stroked his cheek.

“You did, cariño. You’re the perfect lab assistant.”

Cecil beamed at him, nowhere near coherent enough to even fully understand what was happening, what he’d just been through. Carlos gently pushed him back against the table, then leaned down to adjust it back to a horizontal position. Cecil whimpered softly as each jolt of the gears stimulated his over-sensitive body, and Carlos continued to stroke his cheek, his chest. Anything to keep him calm and relaxed. The moment the table was locked back into a horizontal position, he leaned in and gave Cecil a soft kiss at the corner of his mouth, not wanting to risk being near his razor sharp teeth.

“You rest now, okay?” he whispered. “I’m going to take care of this mess.”

Cecil hummed in acknowledgement, his eyes fluttering shut, but reached out and brushed his fingers against the incredibly noticeable erection tenting not only Carlos’ slacks, but his lab coat too. Carlos gasped at the touch, and Cecil grinned as he languidly dragged his fingers along Carlos’ length.

“What about this?” he asked, clumsily attempting to undo the buttons on the coat, but Carlos took Cecil’s hand and gave it a kiss before placing it on his chest.

“I can take care of that too, cariño. Go to sleep.”


End file.
